


Empty Space

by LeilahMoon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, One Shot, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26776156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeilahMoon/pseuds/LeilahMoon
Summary: This short one-shot was inspired by 'Empty Space' - James Arthur
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 39
Kudos: 90





	Empty Space

“You can come in!” she laughed, calling to Draco who was pacing the corridor outside their bedroom.

He pushed the door open and smiled at Hermione. She looked beautiful curled up with a book spread across her lap. Her deep brown eyes sparkled, and he felt his breath hitch.

Walking around to his side of the bed, he sat on the edge to slip his shoes off before lying down and pulling her flush against him. His heart slowed; he was home.

“I missed you,” he murmured into her neck, inhaling her familiar scent.

“It’s not been that long,” she chuckled.

He growled. “Even a second is too much, Granger.”

“So, how was your day, love?”

“Tedious," he sighed.

“That good, huh?”

Draco shrugged, he hadn’t been given anything other than paperwork for the last year, and it was mind numbingly boring.

She poked his ribs. “You’re not eating properly again.”

He thought about this, contemplating the last time he’d had a proper meal. “It’s been so busy at the Ministry recently, you know what it’s like.”

“I know, but you’re going to run yourself into the ground if you carry on like this,” she admonished. “Luckily, I made you something!”

Hermione extricated herself gently from his arms and fetched a small tupperware pot from her bag. He smiled, knowing exactly what it would be; she could, after all, only reliably bake one thing.

She levitated it over to him and confirmed his suspicions. “An apple loaf cake.”

“Thank you,” he said, reaching out to pull her back onto the bed again.

Eating anything these days generally made him feel sick, but he finished the portion for her. She was right, after all - he knew he’d lost a lot of weight, and his face had taken on a seemingly permanent grey tinge. Even Potter had mentioned something to him about it recently.

As though she could read his mind, she said, “Hey, do you remember that time I tried to bake something different for Harry’s birthday?”

Draco suppressed a smirk. “Of course. I’m surprised you didn’t end up in Azkaban for the attempted massacre of war heroes.”

“None of them _actually_ died,” she laughed, “they only _thought_ they were going to.”

“I’m sure halving the cooking time seemed like a good idea at the time, love."

Her laughter was music to his ears and he tightened his grip around her. Hermione’s head pressed comfortably against his chest, hair fanned out in a mass of curls, and she smelt like home. He adored quiet moments like this, where they were free to relax, away from the hustle and bustle and pressure of everyday life. 

She hummed contentedly as he stroked her cheek, twirling a piece of her wayward hair around his finger. When he looked more closely, however, he froze, and a wave of horror washed over him.

Something was wrong.

“No, no, no…” he cried, lurching to his feet and backing away from the bed. “I thought we had more time.”

Fear gripped his throat, making it hard to breath, and he watched helplessly as Hermione's chestnut brown curls straightened themselves out and their colour faded into a pale blonde.

“I’m sorry, Mr Malfoy,” the woman in front of him said gently. “We’ll shorten our session next week, perhaps increase the potency of the Polyjuice Potion.”

“Please,” he gasped, raking his fingers almost painfully across his scalp, “please leave.”

She nodded and gave him a sad smile as she left the room.

It had been over a year since their first appointment, since his wife had died. Mr Malfoy had been meticulous in telling her everything about Hermione to ensure she acted in just the right way. It had initially taken some trial and error but, now, after the Polyjuice, it was almost impossible for him to tell the difference.

She’d sometimes wondered about the ethics surrounding this long-term arrangement, usually she didn’t see clients for more than a few weeks, but, she’d thought, if it gives him an hour of happiness in an otherwise miserable week, there’s nothing wrong with that - is there?

Unfortunately, what she hadn’t considered was the store of Hermione’s hair running out. Mr Malfoy had been luckier than most of her clients because he’d had the foresight to collect it all before she was cremated. Now, however, the agency had enough to last another month and then he would never be able to talk to or feel his wife again.

She should have told him today, but she couldn’t bear to. She would try again next week.


End file.
